Noise
by theonlywayistoastie
Summary: "It stops and he's left with the grinding silence. Yearning for someone to talk to, for some sort of noise. " A sad oneshot I wrote. Sorta OOC. Character death. Really just practicing writing and stuff. Reviews are appreciated! Sorry if there's any mistakes, please tell me if there are, and I'll fix them.


A boy. A boy who's lost. He can't find his way home, but then again, he doesn't want to. The sky was a shimmering mass of lights at this point. 12am. The beach he sat by had no sand, and the waves hitting the walls tickled his feet. The streets were empty, as if someone had gotten an eraser and rubbed all life out but him. Silence filled the air, his ears and his lungs. He was young. 15 by now, he had left on his birthday. Ran and ran until he gave out. 4 days. Police were searching, and he was moving. They thought he had gotten kidnapped. Only because he made it that way. He had run away.

His name was all over the news, papers and every wall. A poster. It blows past his feet._Boy, missing. _It reads. He knew it was him. He thinks back to the news. The day it started.

_Local resident Karkat Vantas was reported missing yesterday, police suspect he was kidnapped. A search for the Karkat has started, police report. Kankri Vantas, Karkat's older brother and guardian, is currently a suspect due to eyewitness reports. Find out more at 18:00pm_

He hated his name. Karkat. It repeated in his head. When his brother talked to him, made him do things he didn't want to do. It screamed at him. He puts his hands over his ears and his face tenses. Contorted into a face of agony. He rocks back and forth slightly. It stops. It stops and he's left with the grinding silence. Yearning for someone to talk to, for some sort of noise. A nice noise, not the sort he hears. Sleep is on his mind now. Somewhere to sleep. A bed would be nice, but there's no such luxury. Old mattresses could be found, but he dare not sleep on them. Riddled with bed bugs, lice and dead skin. Instead, there's an old playground, rotting and rusting away. Empty. He sleeps in a small tarmac hill, with a plastic tube running through it. The sort that pricks your skin with small electric shocks. Pulling out a sleeping bag, he rests his head and falls into a deep slumber. He was hungry. There was no way back now. Maybe he'd die. He don't think he'd mind that. Lots of friends were left behind. Enemies too. But it would mean the world to him to see them again.

Karkat's stomach growls. 6am. He had to leave, he'd be caught. A small lunch box, left on a bench. Half eaten sandwiches and a bottle with juice. He eats. Cheese and butter. Cheap white bread. The sting of the orange juice. It wasn't much, but he wasn't hungry. Walking, he approaches a station. Ticket office empty. He enters. The trains would take him anywhere. _Paignton. _The sign read. He was far from home. Not far enough. He would get on the next train. The lights shine around the corner. It's raining. He tightens his hood up, the train not far. Standing so close to the edge. He considers it. It would be nice to die. The train was getting closer. His heart beats fast, adrenaline pumping through his system. He turns. The whirring of the train on the tracks. People populated the station. This train would not stop here.

Karkat. Karkat. It screams. The screeches of the train on the tracks. The screaming in his head. Three, two, one. Time slows, and he falls backwards. Screams from the people at the station accompanied the screams he heard. A crack. A splatter of red. It paints the station. The train breaks. It chugs, it too donning a coat of red. Passengers crowd the windows. An announcer. Trains delayed. Everyone crowds the boy. They pull him out. A distorted mangled figure. Gagging is upon the newfound audience. They evacuate the area.

_"After a suicide attempt..." _His brother watches the news. A funeral service. Monday. Friends, family gather. A memorial. The station. _"Many gather round the station..." _He sobs. He's visiting him for the fourth time today. _"...Leaving flowers and other memorabilia around the site..." _His friend was there. A bee lands on a flower that sat next to the boy. He stands beside him. The wind blows gently through the willow trees, caressing the branches and the leaves. Silent. It was silent again. _"Paying their respects..." _Life seemed to stop.

_It stops and he's left with the grinding silence. Yearning for someone to talk to, for some sort of noise. __His name was all over the news, papers and every wall. A poster. It blows past his feet._

_"Boy, dead."_


End file.
